


Flashes Of Us

by ilovemyalpaca



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Slow Build, Snippets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 11:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovemyalpaca/pseuds/ilovemyalpaca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments between Sherlock and John. Rating M for some but not all. Sometimes Slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From A to B

**Author's Note:**

> Several 100 word pieces were posted, each as a chapter, on the original site. I'm going to post all related pieces as chapters on here.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock doesn't watch his words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted Dec 27, 2011 to fanfiction.net.

It happens suddenly. Sherlock finds himself being pressed against a wall, John snug up against him. To anyone else, it would look like they are fighting. Sherlock knows that John would never physically harm him so he tries to deduce how they went from point A to point B (being the afore mentioned position against the wall). Point A was John berating Sherlock for yet another social convention he had ignored while Sherlock himself waved a hand and declared the whole thing “Dull.”

Back to present, with John’s face inches from Sherlock’s, breath mingling.

“What did you call me, Sherlock?”

Sherlock blinked in surprise at the growling tone that John’s voice had taken on. He was actually offended about this.

“John, don’t be ridiculous. Of course I wasn’t talking about you. I find anything to do with niceties to be dull and a waste of time.”

The grip only loosened the slightest, the glare intensified. “That woman was not pregnant and you know it.”

Sherlock snorted and rolled his eyes in accompaniment. “Of course, I did but she was insisting on occupying your attention when I needed it.”

“Don’t you always need my attention?” John asked with slight derision.

“Always.”

John’s stormy blue eyes softened until he held an expression of fondness. “That was almost sweet, Sherlock.”

The raven nodded once at the man before him. “Now that you are less upset, can I ask why I’m against the wall? You’ve never been volatile toward me before.”

This statement flustered John and he did this thing with his lips that was between a splutter and an indignant scoff. After a moment and a non-explanation, the military man stepped back. There at the last second before John moved, Sherlock thought they were going to kiss. He was disappointed when they didn’t.


	2. Cinnamon and Spice?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's in the kitchen with Dinah, Sherlock's in the kitchen, I kno-oh-ow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure when this update was posted but published on Dec 27, 2011 to fanfiction.net.

John took a deep breath as he entered the flat. There was a delightful smell of cinnamon emanating from somewhere and it only served to heighten his hunger. His stomach growled impatiently. Carefully and skeptically, he searched the kitchen for take-out or deliveries of any kind. The refrigerator held the closed container reserved for toes and a suspicious looking bowl of yogurt but nothing that smelled even vaguely of cinnamon. There didn’t seem to be anything in the flat that would cause the appetizing scent.

Just then the oven dinged and John whirled to face it will surprise. Sherlock… baking?

“Sherlock? This better not be a joke.”

John’s voice echoes through the flat. He doesn’t hear a reply. Deciding to prevent the inevitable fire, he pulls the dish from the oven. It’s a loaf of bread, perfectly golden and looking delicious. He shouldn’t, really, knowing his flat mate as well as he does but it’s tempting.

He stares at it where it’s set on the stovetop and debates. Is his life worth the taste of cinnamon loaf? John is seconds away from tasting just a bit when Sherlock strides in. He quickly brightens.

“It’s done! Perfect. Would you like some?”

John wrinkled his nose at the idea of tasting anything Sherlock had concocted.

“May I ask what it is?” One of these days his curiosity would kill him, he thought.

Sherlock glanced at him with hopeful eyes. “It’s cinnamon loaf, John. Surely even your intellect can tell that.” He pulled a knife from a cupboard, gave it a once over to ensure its cleanliness and began to slice the bread. A piece was dutifully place on a small plate and placed in front of the ex-army doctor. Its steam rose in a delicious curl. John was once again sorely tempted.

“Looks appealing. Why on earth are you baking?”

The consulting detective grinned and waited with a smile. John finally gave in, trusting the man not to kill him and hopefully only make him slightly ill. Taking a big bite, he found to his surprise that it was absolutely as delicious as it looked. With a slight moan, he looked up at Sherlock and took another bite.

“I found this delightful show on television. Highly inaccurate but it inspired me. I had to attempt baking. Thus this experiment.”

“And what show is this?” John asked around a third bite.

“Sweeney Todd.”

John spewed wet crumbs everywhere. “Sherlock, what the bloody hell? Tell me you didn’t grind up someone and put it in this bread.”

The look he received was one part incredulity and one part offense. “Of course not. At the risk of repetition, the movie was quite inaccurate. However, you could probably dispose of certain kinds of evidence this way. For instance, if one were to-“

“No. I don’t want to know. Just tell me there is nothing in this that is not supposed to be.” Sherlock quirked an eye at that and Jon frowned. “Nothing unsavory.” He amended, quickly.

Sherlock gave a very much put-upon sigh and shook his head. “I was simply going to find out if the inside was hot enough to destroy certain substances. I did so right before I sliced it, if you were paying attention.” He crossed his arms and turned away, annoyance with John written on his face. The doctor crossed the kitchen and wrapped his arms around the detective from behind him.

“It tastes really good, Sherlock. You should try a bite.” The piece he’d picked up was lifted to cupid-bow lips and delicately bitten. John shivered. Sherlock ate a whole slice.


	3. Making Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now John's in the kitchen and habits seemed to rub off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure when this update was posted but published on Dec 27, 2011 to fanfiction.net.

Sherlock realized with a start that he was humming. Since when did he begin humming aimlessly? He tried to remember the tune, probably something classical. It was doubtful that he’d even know anything else. He routinely deleted unimportant information. It took him a moment to realize he was hearing the same sounds from the kitchen.

Standing and moving silently to the doorway, Sherlock leaned against the frame. John was making breakfast, some concoction with English muffins that admittedly looked delicious. The ex-military man was wearing an apron, complete with ruffles, most likely borrowed from Mrs. Hudson. John Watson was humming.


	4. Who's Watching?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all John's fault really. He's the one that insisted Sherlock get into a little more pop culture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure when this update was posted but published on Dec 27, 2011 to fanfiction.net.

“Implausible!” John glanced over at the consulting detective. His knees were drawn up and his brow furrowed. John looked back to his blog and resumed typing. The various exclamations continued sporadically.

“Unreasonable!”

“Ridiculous!”

“Stupendously moronic!”

John finally sighed deeply and turned in his seat to look at the taller male.

“Why do you insist on watching that show if you don’t like it, Sherlock?”

Sherlock Holmes looked a bit put upon and shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly. “I never said I didn’t like it. It just holds no scientific value at all. Really, how can it be bigger on the inside?”

John rolled his eyes fondly. Who would have thought the world’s only consulting detective would be a Whovian?  
“I think you only watch it for Matt Smith’s dreamy eyes.”

This earned a sharp, studying glance. After a moment, Sherlock’s expression cleared and he settled back in. “You shouldn’t tease. I know you happen to like Tennant better and I only prefer one set of eyes.”

John chuckled and returned to his blog entry. Resultantly, he missed the affectionate look that Sherlock sent his way. If it was a bit longing too, well, who was there to see but the skull?


	5. Disrobed Discomfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who needs clothes when you've got a roommate like John?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure when this update was posted but published on Dec 27, 2011 to fanfiction.net.

It should come as no surprise to anyone who was involved in the Buckingham Incident (as John liked to call it in his head) or The Scandal in Belgravia (as it was officially named on his blog) that Sherlock often went without clothes in the flat. After all, the world’s only consulting detective couldn’t be bothered with transport. John Watson often suspected he’d roam the city that way if Lestrade wouldn’t scoop him up and drop him into the clink in the blink of an eye.

As it was, he contained it and John didn’t mind. But the first time…

John was seated on the sofa, newspaper held in front of his face. Tea was nearby, steaming contentedly. A noise sounded Sherlock’s exit of his bedroom and the military looked up to follow his progress across the room. He looked back down, hand picking up the cup and bringing it halfway to his mouth, only to stop. His eyes retraced their path from newspaper to Sherlock and back. Mouth suddenly dry, John swallowed as much tea as possible. He scalded his tongue and promptly put down the cup and paper to wipe at his mouth.

“Sherlock, where are your pants?”

Sherlock’s blank look irritated him more than anything. He was a genius for crying out loud! How did he misunderstand half of what the military man said to him?

“You’re uncomfortable.” The detective looked bewildered as he scanned his own toned body and then Watson’s anxious one.

“Well… yes.”

Sherlock waved a long fingered hand dismissively. “Not a question. Why? You were in the military. And you’re a doctor. The male body is not new to you.”

Sherlock turned to face him, eyes scrutinizing as Watson spluttered and flushed. The shorter male stood and escaped rather quickly without another word.

After that, Sherlock wore a sheet. There was a mild conversation about personal boundaries and flat mates, most of which was ignored by the genius. Life settled back down into their quiet humdrum routine. Well, as humdrum as it could be with one Sherlock Holmes as a best friend.

John tried not to analyze why it had bothered him so or why Holmes was now a reoccurring star of his wet dreams. It wouldn’t do to start having sexual feelings for his partner and he simply would not acknowledge anything of a serious or romantic nature.

It just wouldn’t do.


End file.
